Of Bras and Baby Pictures
by MyStateOfMind
Summary: This was not what it looked like. Sonny Munroe was trying to take back what was hers and the fact that she even had to resort to breaking and entering in order to do that... well, that just had Chad Dylan Cooper's stupid three-named... name all over it.


**Title:** Of Bras and Baby Pictures

**Summary:** This was not what it looked like, she thought furiously. Sonny Munroe was trying to take back what was rightfully hers and the fact that she even had to resort to breaking and entering in order to do that... well, that just had Chad Dylan Cooper's stupid, three named... _name_ all over it.

**Authors Note:** First Sonny With A Chance fanfic and, unfortunately, I'm not enamoured with it. I like the idea... but the writing kinda sucks. But hey, that's how it always is with me. And it may have something to do with the fact that I _should _be revising geography right about now. But I just watched the first 10 episodes of this show, fell in love and couldn't resist channeling some of my love through this. Hopefully it'll tide me over until the 11th, when I can safely say that I'll have the time to write and update to my heart's content. Anyway! Tell me if you like it/don't like it/hate it/are indifferent on the matter. Anything will be appreciated!

**Disclaimer:** La, la, la, I don't own Sonny With A Chance...

* * *

This was not what it looked like, she thought furiously, attempting to convince herself of that fact. Okay, so, yeah, she had kinda, maybe, broken into Chad Dylan Cooper's (gasp!) dressing room and was kinda, maybe, snooping around. Yes, she was also attired in an all black ensemble that she'd raided Tawni's closet for (well, she'd reasoned, if you were gonna do something, you might as well do it right... and stealthily). And, alright, if someone were to walk in at this precise moment, she'd be so incredibly busted and she'd have a lot of explaining to do. Oh, and it was approximately 10pm and, so, instead of attracting the attention of any security guards with the light, she'd opted to go the whole hog and search by torchlight. Oh, yeah. It looked suspicious. But it wasn't what it looked like. At all.

No. Sonny Munroe was currently trying to take back what was rightfully hers and the fact that she even had to resort to breaking and entering in order to do that... well, that just had Chad Dylan Cooper's stupid, three named... _name_ all over it. It was so typical of him. Jerk.

Pushing her bangs from her eyes, she stood up from where she'd been ransacking a drawer while attempting to make the drawer look like it _hadn't_ been ransacked and let her eyes scan the rest of the room. Ugh. This was stupid. The fact that she'd even had to resort to _this_ in order to get back her... ugh. It was too embarrassing. This little game he played? It wasn't funny anymore.

It had started when she'd (wrongfully, she'll admit) accused him of stealing her script for an episode of So Random. She'd misplaced it, he'd been accused, they argued about it and voilà, the game was born.

He took it upon himself to take things. There was no pattern to what he snaffled; whatever took his fancy was sneaked from her dressing room to somewhere in the studio, and Sonny was left to find it's whereabouts through the cryptic hints he dropped when he spoke to her.

At first, he took trivial things. A hair clip here, a makeup brush there... but it increased to items of clothing, personal photographs that lay framed on her dressing table and now... well, now he'd freakin' found her underwear.

And, for the record, no, she didn't just leave her underwear lying around in her dressing room. They were doing a beach sketch; wearing a bra and a bikini would have just looked ridiculous... though at least she could've passed it off as comedy and gotten away with it. And, she frowned as the thought crossed her mind, at least _Chad Dylan Cooper_ would not have found the underwear she'd left in her dressing room after changing into said bikini and have decided that, because of this goddamn game he played, he was going to hold her _bra_ to _ransom_.

This was not funny anymore.

But, the hint he'd dropped this morning - as his _stupid_ sky blue eyes danced with humor over the fact that a) he'd stolen yet another thing, b) that other thing was none other than her underwear and c) she was actually, unlike any other time he'd stolen anything (to which she'd just rolled her eyes and awaited the details), mortified, because he'd _stolen_ her _underwear... _NOT THAT SHE WAS LOOKING INTO HIS EYES LIKE THAT, IT WAS JUST HARD TO NOT NOTICE THEIR... DANCING-NESS - told her that said item was in his dressing room and that was why she was here.

Not that she could tell anyone that if they came in, God. Like anyone would believe her anyway. She hadn't even told Tawni about his "game".

No. She had to find it and get out.

Sighing, she decided to give up making it look like she hadn't been here; having to clean up the train wreck of a room would serve him right, she supposed, as she flicked on the light and turned off her torch. She'd promised Zora that she wouldn't use up all the power in her double A batteries anyway.

Now. Where to start?

"Hmm... okay, Sonny," she said to herself, thoughtfully. Hey, nobody else was around; she could talk to herself in third person if she wanted. Chad probably did all the time. "Think like Chad. You're an egotistical, self-absorbed actor on a TV drama that is so far-fetched it makes Big Brother look relatively normal... where do you hide things? Or, more specifically, where do you hide _Sonny's_ things?"

She spun around, glancing over everything in the room. It definitely put her and Tawni's dressing room to shame, which was not reassuring. Mackenzie Falls wasn't even all that great.

Spotting a box on a shelf above the desk (with, she noted, a brand new iMac sitting proudly on it. _Seriously_; Mackenzie Falls? Not even that great.) Sonny's eyebrows shot upwards, she grabbed the desk chair and, not caring that the fact that it was on wheels should maybe have been an omen that she shouldn't be standing on it, she heaved herself up so that she (shut up, she was short, she knew this) could reach the shelf. She grabbed it with both hands, feeling both herself and the chair wobble and then, as a result, losing her balance completely. And, crazily, her one thought before the box crashed out of her hands and _she_ crashed onto the floor, was that the iMac better not be damaged because she was not paying for destruction of that thing.

"Ugh," she said, clutching her head as she used the desk to prop herself up.

Thank God. The computer was intact.

"Ugh." She repeated, running her hand through her hair as she pushed on the desk and back into a standing position. Moving her hands towards the box and the papers and, apparently, photographs that had scattered when it hit the desk and opened, she cursed under her breath. "I hate Chad Dylan – aww. Baby Chad!"

She may have been mortified and mad that he'd put her in this position, but baby pictures were Sonny's weakness (or... one of them, anyway). And, well... baby pictures of Chad? Somehow more adorable than...

Oh, ho, ho. Wait. This could be used to her advantage. This could be very, very good. Chad had never let any of his own baby pictures be released to the press. Rather famously, when Tween Weekly had been running that article on stars and their baby pictures, Chad Dylan Cooper had flat out refused to partake (Sonny had, of course, obliged almost instantly with an array of cute photos of her). Looking at these, Sonny couldn't exactly see why - he was just as cute as he was now... wait, no, he was CUTER than he was now because Chad _Dylan _Cooper was just... yeah, cute - but these pictures were in her hands. And, if he didn't want them to _coincidentally_ find their way to the desk of that Santiago guy, he would return her underwear and stop taking things from her dressing room period. It _wasn't_ funny. No wonder he was on a drama as opposed to a comedy show, really.

She wasn't a blackmail kind of person, really. But desperate times called for desperate measures and these were most definitely desperate times. A few select pictures went into the back pocket of her black jeans (including an _uber _cute one of Chad without his two front teeth, grinning at the camera... aww) and the rest she put back in the box, leaving the lid open as she decided what to do next.

Grabbing a Sharpie (that, she assumed, was lying around in case he had an autograph request and needed a pen on demand) she pulled a seemingly blank piece of paper towards her and scrawled her message quickly.

_Two can play at this game, Cooper. And I'll return your baby pictures when you return my goddamn underwear, comprende?_

It wasn't a very Sonny-like message, she'd admit it herself. But (in case she hadn't thought it enough in the past few minutes) this _wasn't _funny anymore. She was annoyed. And, okay, she hadn't quite hit diva levels yet (even if the entire world thought she had), but things were well on their way.

She was not letting him get away that easy with this.

Just as she was about to drop the now-folded piece of paper into the box and close the lid, her gaze was attracted to... _her name? _Her name on the paper? Why was _her name _on a seemingly unwanted piece of paper in _Chad Dylan Cooper's _dressing room? Why was her name _anywhere _in Chad's dressing room?

Unfolding the paper again and flipping it over to look at the side that didn't hold her not-so-threatening message, she let her eyes skim over the page as she tried to work out what she was even looking at. It was a Mackenzie Falls script – or a page of one at least – and it didn't sound like a familiar scene (not that she watched it for _pleasure_, it was mainly to check out the competition and to see if the overdramatics of the entire show sparked any inspiration for sketches), which meant it was probably recently filmed and, consequently, unaired.

She started reading from the top of the page – Mackenzie's line started the scene – and subconsciously mouthed the words as she read them.

_**Mackenzie: **__It's always been you, Portlyn. Always. When I was sure the whole world - everyone in the Falls - was against me, you were the one person that stood by my side. I just didn't realize that until now._

_**Portlyn: **__I... I don't know, Mackenzie. How can I be sure that this time will be any different?_

_**Mackenzie: **__Look at me, P. I've changed. Sure, I still have my bright blue eyes and my perfect hair, but I... something has changed. You've come into my life and made it... happy. And even though we might as well come from two different worlds sometimes, something feels right with you. Portlyn... consider this my apology. For everything I've done or said to make you feel like a worthless, stupid person. Consider this... consider this the real Mackenzie._

Although she hated to admit it, reading those words made her stomach do a little flip-flop (ugh, fine, okay... _numerous _flip-flops) and Sonny let her gaze fall to the bottom of the page, where she'd seen her name. There, in Chad's almost indecipherable script, was two sentences of writing.

_Pull yourself together, Chad!_

Reading the first sentence, Sonny couldn't help but roll her eyes at his constant referring to himself in third-person. Even when writing he did it, evidently. But that thought didn't stop her from reading on – the next sentence had _her _name in it, after all. And even though it was probably just some insult about how 'you're acting worse than Sonny today', she couldn't help the overwhelming desire to find out what, exactly, Chad Dylan Cooper wrote about her in his spare time.

_Pull yourself together, Chad! You're talking to __**Portlyn**__, not Sonny; stop imagining her standing opposite you!_

She had to re-read it a few times before the meaning of the written words had sunk in and, even then, she took a full minute to try and work out if there was any possible ambiguity to the words. If, (which - considering it was written on the page holding that scene - was likely) it was in referral to the scene he was working on, then...

If, (which - considering it would not make sense AT ALL because he would not have been talking to Sonny whilst filming that scene and if he had, she'd remember it - was likely) he hadn't gotten their names the wrong way around, then...

If, (which – considering it was in his handwriting and he'd done that annoying third-person thing whilst talking before, thus making it plausible that he'd do it whilst writing too – was likely), it was _Chad Dylan Cooper _writing this note, then...

Wow.

Double wow.

Double wow with chocolate chips and sprinkles on top.

"Wow." She breathed, sitting down on the desk chair that she'd not-so-long-ago fallen off of and sighing, not out of discontent but out of oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-this shock.

Sonny didn't know how long she sat there – although she figured it probably wasn't as long as it felt – but when she eventually moved, she found herself at just as big of a loss of what to do than when she'd first sat down. What... how... _did she like him like that?_

Yes.

It took less than a millisecond for her to come to her conclusion which surprised her. If it was so darned obvious when she asked herself the question, then why hadn't it come to her before? Why had it taken six months working alongside him (well... sort of) for her to figure it out?

Yes. She liked him. She liked his eyes and his hair and - despite his tendency to be an annoying jerk who messed with her mind on a semi-regular basis and stole personal items of hers such as, I DON'T KNOW, her _underwear? - _his nice side. She liked that, even though their shows had a huge hate thing going on, he still came over to the So Random side of life sometimes and pretended to be her fake-date and donned a beard and two arm-casts because he cared. She liked that sometimes, when he didn't even expect it, he showed her the side of him that hardly anybody in Hollywood even knew existed. She even liked when they got into their stupid insult wars where they scorned each other's shows and viewers, because they kept her on her toes. He wouldn't be Chad Dylan Cooper if he didn't have a jerk side.

But, apparently, he didn't hate her as much as he claimed he did. Or, if he did, he had hallucinations that she was playing his love interest in Mackenzie Falls on more than one occasion, which was almost as good, right?

Huh.

Sonny couldn't help the smile that spread over her face as she spun the chair around in one fluid movement and pulled the Sharpie to her again, uncapping it quickly and flipping the paper back over to reveal her note.

Hm... now. What to say?

Letting out a short laugh, she put pen to paper and added a short P.S to the end, before folding it again and running her bright blue (possibly painted with Chad's eyes in mind...) nails along the crease as she dropped it in the box and stood up.

She skipped to the doorway and took one last look around the dressing room before flicking out the light, closing the door and making her way out of the studio, Chad's baby pictures in tow and her heart flip-flopping in her chest. Sure, she hadn't gotten what she came for, but she'd gotten a whole lot more.

* * *

Chad had been early to the set all week and the next day was no different. There was just something about getting to work before everyone else and getting to see everyone else (including one Sonny Munroe) arrive that seemed... cool. Or something.

Ugh. Even he was rolling his eyes at himself now.

It didn't take long to get to his dressing room; everyone made a habit of ignoring him in the mornings anyway (Chad Dylan Cooper wasn't especially good at mornings) and so he didn't have to make small talk with any of the extras or – he shuddered slightly – Portlyn. For someone who was supposed to be stupid, she sure had been going on about how he _totally _liked Sonny and how they were _totally _meant to be, if only he would _totally _sum up the courage and tell her.

He didn't like people who said 'totally' a lot. Especially not when they were telling him to man up and do something that he wasn't even sure he wanted to do in the first place.

Who was he even kidding?

He totally wanted to tell her (ugh, Portlyn had passed the 'totally' disease onto him; he might actually have to kill himself) but he probably wouldn't. For one, she'd probably just laugh at him. For two (could you say that? For two? Oh well, Chad Dylan Cooper could), they _were _from two different worlds. And, for three, he'd have no idea how to even begin telling her something like that. He'd probably mess it up anyway.

As he pushed open the door to the room, he noticed immediately that things were not how they had been left. The drawers had _obviously _been ransacked, for starters. And, then, whoever had ransacked them had obviously attempted to make them look like they hadn't. Which, needless to say, hadn't worked because he'd known instantly.

And he was sure that his desk chair hadn't been that far away from the desk. And he was sure that he had _not _left papers all over the flo – no. No. No, no, no, no, no!

Running over to the box that stored the pictures his mother had forced him to take with him when he moved to Hollywood (he put them up whenever she came to visit, pretending he missed it and, as soon as she left, would then take them down and replace them with the pictures of himself) he groaned as he realized exactly what had happened. This had Sonny Monroe written all over it.

Ugh. He knew she'd have to visit his dressing room to get her underwear back, but Chad had been bargaining on actually being there. So that he could watch as she searched. And could make sure that she didn't look anywhere like in the box! Who looked in a box for stolen underwear anyway? Who would _hide _stolen underwear in a _box? _Jeez. What did she take him for?

He sat down heavily in the desk chair as he pulled the box towards him, bracing himself for the damage that may have been done. It could be empty. She could have sent his baby pictures to Tween Weekly or Perez or... oh God. If she'd done that...

Flipping the lid back, he frowned over two things. One, there were still baby pictures left. She hadn't completely cleaned it out. And, two, there was a piece of paper in there that he hadn't put in. Which meant that Sonny had. Chad fished it out, his heart stopping as he realized what it was.

_Crap._

The script. He'd been having a bad day, every time he closed his eyes he saw Sonny and, when he started shooting the scene where Mackenzie declares his love for Portlyn, he just couldn't get her out of his head. And, so, when the director told him to take a break and get back into the zone, he'd written himself a message of... well. He didn't know. He'd just done it and he'd ripped it out of the script as soon as they'd finished the scene and had been meaning to get rid of it...

But Sonny had found it first. And she'd... put it in the box?

Noticing the ink bleeding through from the other side, Chad flipped it over and a spark of hope alighted in his chest. Hey! Maybe she'd just written on it and not realized what it was!

_Two can play at this game, Cooper. And I'll return your baby pictures when you return my goddamn underwear, comprende?_

He couldn't help but smile at the words – she might not have thought it was typical Sonny, but when Sonny Monroe talked to him, this sort of message was very typical – and, he had to admit, he was impressed. He hadn't thought of Sonny as a blackmailing type. At all.

Letting his gaze slide down to the writing below, he too had to read the words several times before they actually processed. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Hold. _Up._

A goofy grin – very unlike any grin any cast member of Mackenzie Falls had ever seen adorn Chad Dylan Cooper's face – spread across his face and, dropping the paper on the desk, Chad jumped up and, not caring that he was being seen racing to the So Random studio or that he would probably be late for filming, practically ran to the neighboring set, in search for Sonny.

_Two can play at this game, Cooper. And I'll return your baby pictures when you return my goddamn underwear, comprende?_

_P.S. So... you know I said that our fake-date would be the last fake-date we ever had? How about the one you ask me on tomorrow be real? Maybe that'll get rid of your Sonny-itis (although, y'know, probably not :-P)._


End file.
